Love, Those You Locked Away
by JALU
Summary: Oz, the place men have called home for more than a decade. Oz, the place where nightmares really do become reality. Oz, the place that changes people. Tobias Beecher, Ryan O'Reily, and Miguel Alvarez write their open letters after the series. Oz, it's no place like home.


**Author's Notes: **Set after the series.  
**Rating: **M for very strong language and themes.

**Disclaimer: **Oz belongs to its rightful owners. No copyright intended.

* * *

**Fuck You, Sweetpea**

My life ended the day Kathy Rockwell died. Or maybe before that fatal incident; maybe Kathy Rockwell was just the tip of the iceberg that dropped me in the deep end. Maybe she wasn't even real – just created to give me a kick and take me off the alcohol.

Or maybe I'm just fucking delusional – worse has been said.

Regardless, Oz is a place that really changes your perception of things. I mean, I entered this place as a _lawyer_, you know? I was a man who spent a good portion of his life in school, then married and had his kids. I was pretty much the archetypical family man. Well, minus the alcoholism, though if Hollywood has taught us anything, it is that lawyers are alcoholics. In my firm it was only me – which I knew of. Apart from the Martinis' we would have after a bitch of a day, I don't think those men even drank recreationally. Just me. All alone.

Lawyers aren't respected in Oz. Not surprising, of course, I'm sure the men blamed their lawyers for getting them in here – I know I sure did. Yet the lawyer was their most visited companion, rallying for their parole or to overturn sentences. Irony, another abundance in the merry ol' Land of Oz.

I still blame Schillinger – and I can't get around to saying the name without shuddering – for completely changing me. If it weren't for him I might still be the bespectacled, scared-shitless family man with no street smarts and no ability to defend myself. Thanks Vern, you cocksucking motherfucker. That's as sincere a thank you as you will ever receive.

Damn it, though, Vern, I still blame you for Chris, and that is something you will never receive even a sarcastic thank-you for. _You _killed Keller. It was all _you_. _You _started moulding him in _your _image from, what was it again, seven-fucking-teen? Jesus Chris, didn't you have someone your own age to suck you off? If it weren't for your meddling, maybe Keller would have grown up normally. Maybe he would have visited prison once and then left free – made a good life for himself. Settled down with _one _wife, not his string of divorces.

Yeah, Vern, I know; _then I wouldn't have met him_. But at least he would be **alive**. At least he would **exist**. All he is now is a rotting body. All that exists of him is a string of failed marriages and murdered bodies. I blame you. I blame _everything on you_.

Look what I'm doing; basing my life on Vern Schillinger. How pathetic. How sick.

I'll tell you a secret: Deep down, I don't even blame him. I blame Oz. I blame the yellow brick road, and my own mistake of following it.

* * *

**I Haven't Forgotten You**

What would have happened, Chris, if we left Oz? Forget for a minute you would be 87. Just...forget that. Stay with me, okay?

What do you think would have happened? Do you think...uhh...that we would still be together? I know that if you were here right now you would tell me "Yeah, of course, Toby. I love you."

But _really_, Chris?

I still believe you did it; I still believe you killed those men. I hate to have to ask, but would I have been the next to go? Or was I really the first man you managed to love, and not lie to about it? Was I really enough for you to accept yourself? You don't have to tell me you're gay – I don't think you are – but I would have wanted you to accept that women aren't your only interest.

I'm getting off tangent, sorry. I didn't want to bring up all that old shit. I don't care about the crimes you committed, really – I killed someone too. I accepted you as is, or at least tried to. Sorry if I failed sometimes, but I promise that I never stopped loving you.

But I have to know: What is it? Us against the world? Or just us against Oz?

If you were here, that is the only question I would demand an answer for. The rest of it can stay with you; I honestly no longer care. I just want you back here, and maybe we would serve our sentences and get out of Em City – then decide what to do from there.

I always tried to be honest with you, Chris, and I will continue to be. Truth is, man, I don't think we would ever manage to escape. I think Oz has fucked me over enough to trap me, and, well, we both know where you stand.

Still, if I try hard enough I can picture it. Faint, blurry, but there. We might have found complete happiness for once, provided we tried. I'd still do my law, have my kids, and you...well, you would do whatever the hell made you happiest. I wouldn't want it any other way.

But all of this is just wishful thinking, isn't it, Chris?


End file.
